


final moments

by fruectose



Series: do NOT call me a swiftie [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: this is not a romantic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruectose/pseuds/fruectose
Summary: a little (platonic!!) luke and annabeth fic inspired by Taylor Swift's 'seven' (thanks anon on Tumblr!!)
Series: do NOT call me a swiftie [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159709
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	final moments

“Look how high I can go!”

Her face was round, flushed and the picture of innocence. Luke couldn’t believe how different she seemed from only two weeks ago. Gone were the sunken cheeks and alert, weary eyes- now there was laughter and big grins with missing teeth and a child so full of life.

Luke sunk into the water and resurfaced, wiping the hair off of his forehead. Thalia sat on the edge of the brook, her legs crossed over as she flicked through the magazine she’d managed to steal from an off-license. Annabeth was perched on a swing that Luke had managed to craft for her, hanging off the branch directly over the brook. Better she fell into water than hard ground, Luke had reasoned. She pumped her little legs and Luke caught a glimpse of the scars she’d already amassed. She seemed too young, he thought.

“Jump off.” He yelled to her, letting the current carry him a couple meters away. She stopped pumping and looked at him.

“Are you mad?”

“It’ll feel like you’re flying!” He called. “It’s fun, right Thalia?”

“Oh, yeah. _Super_ fun.” Thalia didn’t even try to feign enthusiasm. She turned the page. “Flying is great. Oh, gods. Brad Pitt’s getting married!”

“I’m sorry, I know he’s the one that got away.” Luke said. “Come on, Annabeth.”

Annabeth didn’t care about Brad Pitt and Luke envied her for it.

“I’m scared.”

“I’m right here.”

That’s all Annabeth needed. That’s all she ever needed- _we’ve got your back_. Hesitantly, she let go of the make-do chains Luke had created with some spare rope and leaned forward.

“When you’re as high as you can get.” Luke called. Annabeth closed her eyes when she pushed herself off. She soared through the air and fell into the water where Luke was stood a moment ago, splashing him in the face. Her head bobbed out of the surface and her grin threatened to tear her face in half.

“That was _so_ fun!”

“I told you.” Luke said, holding out his hands. “Now come over.”

Annabeth swam straight up to him and he let her climb onto his shoulders. “Did you see that, Thalia? I was flying!”

“Very cool.” Thalia said. Annabeth frowned.

“I think Thalia just needs to cool off.” Luke whispered to Annabeth, and there it was again. A smile, untainted by all the horrors they’d faced. He let her back into the water and they waded over to Thalia. In silent agreement, they grabbed her by each ankle and, before she could really make sense of what was happening, pulled her into the stream.

“Wha-!?” She managed before she went under. She came back up, sputtering for breath, black hair sticking to her face. She glared between the two of them. “Oh, you guys are _so_ dead.”

Annabeth’s screams of delight echoed through the forest, and if any monsters were hunting them, they let them have that one evening to themselves. Gods, and monsters, it seemed, knew the three of them deserved some fun time.

*

“I don’t want you coming back with _any_ injuries. You’re going to be on your _best_ _behavior_. No silly risks. Are we clear?”

Annabeth always seemed so young. She was the same age as Thalia had been when she died now. Luke was still much older, of course, but it seemed like only yesterday that he’d scooped her up and decided she’d be a part of his family, his life, a part of _him_ , forever. Annabeth was old enough to roll her eyes at him and defiantly fold her arms over her chest.

“ _Luke_.” She whined. Luke reached over in response, slinging an arm around her and pulling her roughly to his side. She stumbled over the vines but grabbed onto him to steady herself. She tried her hardest to wrestle her way out from under his grip, twelve years old with an eighth of his muscle mass. “Let me go!”

“No.” He told her, nuzzling the top of her head. “Stay here. Don’t go on this stupid quest.”

Annabeth squirmed and squirmed until she could pull herself free. She reached out and picked the closest strawberry by her ankle and took a bite. Then her face contorted and she stuck her tongue out before dropping it onto Luke’s lap.

“That’s sour. You can have it.”

Luke frowned and picked it up. “You’re getting too old to be passing off your leftovers to me, you know.”

“And you’re getting too old to be eating hard foods like _strawberries_.” Annabeth retorted. She squinted at his face. “You got any teeth in there, grandpa?”

Luke laughed and leaned back onto his elbows. “I’ll get you back for that.” He told her. Annabeth shook her head.

“I think I’ll be able to handle it.” She said, and he never thought to doubt it for a moment. Luke was older, more experienced and stronger, but Annabeth was resilient. She could handle just about anything, he thought. It’s what he liked the most about her.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” He changed the topic because he didn’t need her getting a big head and because he was worried. The quest was dangerous, and if he’d known this was the moment Chiron decided to let her wander off with a satyr who failed his job _twice_ and a boy who couldn’t wield a sword to save his life- if Luke had had any idea Annabeth was a part of the bargain, he’d have called the entire thing off.

Annabeth was young and eager to prove her worth. Her eyes shone with anticipation when she rolled them at him. When had she gotten so good at doing that?

“Only been waiting five years for this.” She said. Luke shook his head.

“It’s a different world out there. You were very young the last time you fought an actual monster.”

“And I did fine, didn’t I?” She asked.

“You only got so far on your own.”

“I’m not going alone. I’ll have Grover and that Poseidon kid.” She made a face and Luke was proud of her. He grinned.

“Don’t go getting too close to him now.”

“As _if_.” Annabeth said. “He _drooled_ on me when I was feeding him nectar.”

Stay far away from him, Luke wanted to cry. He’s unreliable. Let him prove his worth. He couldn’t tell Annabeth any of that, of course, because he knew better than anyone that it would drive her right into him. He reached out and ruffled her blonde hair.

It wasn’t goodbye, he reminded himself. Once she was back from her failed quest, he’d grab his things, grab Annabeth and slip out. She’d be happy with Kronos. She’d have a hundred people watching over her. He thought of how he’d found Annabeth- so young and tender and so quickly hardened to the world. He’d never admit it to her, of course, but she’d terrified him when she was seven. She’d gotten so much more mature now- she wasn’t throwing tantrums, wasn’t so untrusting of the people around her. It was impressive, how she’d gotten back to her feet after being beaten down so much. Luke felt his heart swell with pride and resisted the urge to grab her and never let go. He was always safe when she was in his arms.

“Why are you looking at me funny?” Annabeth asked.

“Maybe it’s because you’re a joke.” Luke told her flatly. Annabeth let out a huff.

“You are _so_ annoying.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Luke said instead. There was a lump in his throat. Annabeth would be fine. She _had_ to be fine. He saw her sarcastic remark die when she met his eyes. Her fingers curled around two of his fingers and she nodded.

“I’ll be okay.”

“No face scars?” Luke pushed. Annabeth smiled. One of her canines had grown in just a little crooked- it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m smarter than you were.”

*

It was her dad who answered the door. Luke had never met him before, but she had his nose and his hair and that was enough to make Luke want to punch the guy’s lights out. He wanted to grab him by the collars and scream, _you let her down! You don’t deserve another chance!_ But he couldn’t, because Luke let her down too. Luke had promised to be better and he’d fallen short by an easy five billion steps- and that made him immeasurably worse.

“Is Annabeth home?” He asked, his gut twisting at the taste of her name. Annabeth, he thought. Annabeth, the girl he’d promised to stand behind, forever. Annabeth, the girl he’d spent so long being angry with, feeling betrayed by; the girl he’d allowed to be tortured and then nearly killed only a few months ago. Annabeth, with her large, hopeful eyes and heart so full of love.

“Are you a friend from Camp?” Dr. Chase asked with a smile. He leaned against the doorframe and Luke swallowed and averted his gaze.

“Something like that.”

“Why don’t you come in? We can get you some tea and carrot cake.”

“Annabeth hates carrots.” Luke said reflexively. Dr. Chase looked taken aback and Luke felt a little guilty. Maybe her dad deserved to be treated the way Luke was doing now- but he was in no position to be fighting battles on Annabeth’s behalf. He sighed and hoped Dr. Chase heard the unspoken half-baked apology. “I’m short on time. Is she free?”

Dr. Chase nodded and disappeared into the house. Luke stood on the steps in the middle of the flower garden and waited.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Annabeth appeared at the door. She wore shorts and a zip-up hoodie over a blue top. Her hair was combed back into a ponytail and it hadn’t been that long since he’d last seen her but it was shocking how old she’d started to look. Beautiful young lady, he thought. She crossed her arms over her chest and held him under her gaze, even more intense than Thalia’s _aegis_.

“I come in peace.”

“You haven’t felt in peace in years.”

“I know. I…” Luke faltered. Annabeth had always been so good at reading him.

Her lower lip trembled. “You’re here to ask a favor.” She guessed. She knew Luke as well as he did her. He tried to form any words, but her eyes were already welling with tears and she bit down on her lip and he couldn’t bring himself to break that dam.

“Annabeth-,”

“I can’t help you, Luke.” She said. She took a shaky breath and shook her head. “You know I can’t.”

“We’ll run away. Fuck that guy. He’s an asshole.” He said, pointing into the house where her dad had disappeared. “Fuck Percy and Kronos and the gods. It’ll be you and me. On the run. We’re great at that.”

“You know I can’t do that.” She told him. There was a single tear rolling down her cheek. Her eyes were large and vulnerable- she wasn’t even trying to hide her secrets.

Luke had spent so long feeling resentful to her. He’d promised Kronos the smartest, most capable battle strategist, because that’s how sure he was that Annabeth would join him. She’d follow him to the ends of the world- he’d been so confident of it. Then she’d betrayed him, over and over again with that suffocating idealism- _things will get better, Luke. How could you turn your back on your friends? Why are you doing this?_ And with every word of truth, it became easier to want to hurt her.

She was _wrong_. Luke reminded himself of that every single day. She was wrong about the gods. Kronos- now there was the change the world needed. For some time- for a really scary period of time- he’d been willing to sacrifice Annabeth for the greater good. He’d convinced himself it would be okay to use her, manipulate her, hurt her- if it meant getting rid of Percy Jackson.

It only took her bleeding to death and crumpled at his feet to knock some sense into him. How could Luke ever apologize for what he’d done? How do you look a young girl, a girl who’d spent so many years looking up to you as a role model, in the eye and tell her that it’s eating you alive that you nearly _murdered_ her?

“I’m sorry, Luke.”

Luke’s throat closed up. He wasn’t sure what he’d planned to say when he actually saw Annabeth, but nothing could have prepared him to hear _her_ doing the apologizing. His eyes burned but he blinked back the tears. Annabeth had only ever seen him cry once before- when Thalia died- and he’d sworn she’d never have to see that again. He reached out to her and she flinched, instinctively stepping into her house. That was worse than anything she could ever say to him. She knew it, too, because she took a shaky breath and shook her head, fixing her gaze pointedly at his feet.

“Not now. Please.”

“I’m begging you.” Luke said. “I’ve got a boat. We could live like pirates. Move to India, see the Taj Mahal.”

“Don’t…” Annabeth pleaded. “You know I can’t come.”

“Because of Jackson?”

Annabeth didn’t answer right away. She studied his face, her expression a mixture of guilt and sorrow and disappointment, and Luke’s chest ached. It was almost ironic that in all three of his past relationships, he’d never let it develop so far as to give someone else the power to break his heart. Luke could never in a million years have predicted that it would be _her_ \- that Annabeth Chase would be his reckoning.

Annabeth, with her slim wrists and dainty hands, so small and naïve. Annabeth, only fourteen years old and fighting her hardest to remain innocent in a cold, cruel world. She wasn’t the face of retribution, but it only took one look into her eyes for the guilt to pull him under.

“You’re the one who drew enemy lines.”

“Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

“I don’t know.” She told him. “But if you stay- I might be able to respect you.”

_Naïve_ , Luke thought once more. He felt a bitter, harsh laugh rising in his throat and swallowed it back. Annabeth had received enough malice on his account. He shook his head.

“If I stay, he’ll… he’ll use me.” He said. Saying those words made panic and bile churn in his stomach uneasily. He felt dizzy. “Like a stepping stone. I’ll burn away.”

“I won’t run away anymore.” Annabeth told him gently. She reached a hand out tentatively, but Luke stayed still as a statue. Her palm rested delicately against his cheek, her touch light as a butterfly’s and Luke was too afraid to scare her away. “You knew I would say no when you came here.”

“Please don’t… don’t let me down.” Luke begged.

“I’ve never been the one who let you down.”

*

Funny thing, power.

You can, Luke supposes, _feel_ powerful, but it’s neither tangible nor an emotion. Feeling powerless is even more confusing, because how can you feel the absence of something you can’t truly feel in the first place? It doesn’t make sense.

The only thing that _does_ make sense, though, is her face. She’s bloody and grimy and her shoulder is quite obviously dislocated and she’s in pain. Luke sees her again, battered and broken and on the brink of death, and he feels it- power.

Pain is not so complicated. Luke feels pain. Pain on his skin and underneath his eyes and pouring out his lungs. Searing, white-hot pain, glowing brighter and brighter until the agony is burning an intense golden. Then he hears her voice, calling his name, only once, and the world is as he knows it once more.

He’s falling- or maybe he’s standing up, but he realizes that it’s _him_ , _his_ muscles and _his_ brain and Percy Jackson and Grover are kneeling down beside him, frowning and desperately trying to heal him, but Luke is past the aching now. He sees Annabeth, crawling up to him, and he thinks about power one last time. Maybe power is the conviction to fight for what’s right, Luke thinks. If that’s what it is, he knows he’s leaving her in very capable hands. Annabeth will never go a day feeling powerless.

“Did you love me?”

“You were like a brother to me.” She tells him and it’s enough.

Of course she loves him- he’d known before he asked. She’s his sister. He’d hoped she’d say it, just to hear those words from her once, a memory he can carry into the Underworld.

Her answer is weighted, and he understands that. She will always love him, just as he will always love her in death. Luke wants to spend what energy he has left telling her that. Telling her that he had to keep sight of her, that in the end it was her, and her alone- who’d been his moral compass. He wants to apologize and tell her he wants nothing but the best for her. One day, she’ll be grey. She’ll not remember the details of his face when she hears his name- _think of me fondly_ , he wants to beg her to please, _please_ remember the good times even if it isn’t what he deserves. He wants to ask Annabeth one last question- does she respect him now? He’d stayed. He’d fought Kronos and he’d finally won. Does she care at all?

He needs so badly to let pour his heart out, but he _can’t_. His breaths are numbered, and it’s just not the kind of thing Annabeth would do. She wouldn’t die in vain, babbling some nonsense about how she’d made a mistake. Look to the future, leave the world better than when you came in. Create a better life than what you were given.

He makes Percy promise, because who better to hold accountable than the only person to ever see the value in Annabeth’s conviction?

His hands are burnt but he barely feels the heat. He sees Annabeth reaching out weakly. She touches the tips of her fingers to his and she sits close to him until he drifts off. He closes his eyes and tries to remember it- the kink in her broken nose, the awkward angle of her arm, the blood smeared on her jaw, the soot on her t-shirt… the respect in her eyes.

Luke has never felt more powerful.


End file.
